


The Rebirth of Raphael Santiago

by Arrow_Laine



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood & Raphael Santiago Friendship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asexual Raphael Santiago, De-Aged Raphael Santiago (technically), Domestic Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Found Family, Human Raphael Santiago, M/M, Magnus Bane & Raphael Santiago Friendship, Magnus Bane & Raphael Santiago are father and son, POV Raphael Santiago, Raphael Santiago & Isabelle Lightwood Friendship, Raphael Santiago & Simon Lewis Friendship, Raphael Santiago Deserves Nice Things, Teenager Raphael Santiago, blend of tv show and book themes, post-Malec-wedding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:21:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23436100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrow_Laine/pseuds/Arrow_Laine
Summary: Raphael Santiago was fifteen years old when he died and began his undead life as a vampire. Eighty years afterwards, with the help of Heavenly Fire, he was given a gift: the chance to be human again. His body, however, has always remained fifteen, unable to age. Raphael must embrace his life again as a human teenager, with the help of the newlywed couple, the Lightwood-Banes, who have decided to take him in.
Relationships: Alec Lightwood & Raphael Santiago, Isabelle Lightwood & Raphael Santiago, Magnus Bane & Raphael Santiago, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Simon Lewis & Raphael Santiago
Comments: 32
Kudos: 108





	1. A Fresh Start

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone who knows me knows that Raphael was by far my favorite character in the Shadowhunters TV show, and I loved the [very few] scenes between Raphael and Magnus showing off their father-son relationship throughout the show. I feel like season 3 kind of robbed me of a lot of potential moments between them, so you know, here I am, writing a self-indulgent fic where Magnus raises a teenage human Raphael.

As the happy couple began to share their first dance, Raphael in the crowd spotted Simon and Isabelle speaking with each other just in front of him. He couldn’t not say hello to them. “ _Amigos_ …”

Simon turned first, and he actually smiled when he caught sight of him. After their experience in The Gard, they were as close to friends as Raphael could really ever describe himself having, but the fact there was no ill will between them was almost unsettling, given their wobbly history. Still, he did not regret their being on good terms now. “Raphael.”

Isabelle smiled at him too. “It’s so good to see you, Raphael.”

“I’m glad you two are together.” He spoke earnestly. Though Raphael cared for Isabelle and always would, he had let his love of her go. That love would never leave his heart, but he understood that they were not meant to be together, and he’d made his peace with that the day he’d been taken to The Gard. He raised his glass to the two before him. “You couldn’t have asked for a better man.”

Simon dropped his gaze shyly, so he didn’t catch Isabelle’s fond look his way, but Raphael did and he couldn’t help smiling either. He truly was happy they were happy.

“How’s life as a mundane?” Isabelle asked to change the subject.

Raphael’s smile did not fade. “It’s amazing. I’m finally able to pursue a calling I’ve had since I was a kid.”

“Celebrity tamale chef?” Simon guessed, in that way of his that meant he thought he was funny. Raphael had never told him—and likely never would—but the idiot was rather amusing… sometimes. “Men’s tailor?”

Raphael chuckled. “Yeah, no.” His expression darkened to one void of humor, one Simon knew well. Raphael couldn’t help feeling pleased that the Daylighter gulped at the sight of it, but Raphael was only teasing. His face lightened and he gave a true smile. “I plan to join the seminary.”

Twin expressions of shock looked back at him. Isabelle, eyes wide and surprised, asked him, “You’re gonna be a priest?”

“One day,” he conceded with a nod, “but I have to get back in touch with my God first.”

“I’m happy for you, Raphael.”

“Yeah, well…” He inhaled. “I have a lot to repent for.”

He glanced down, not so much uncomfortable with the conversation as he was simply ashamed, but that was a part of his atonement. He had to own up to the mistakes he had made, to the horrible things he had done and the pain he had caused.

Thankfully, an interruption in the form of Clary Fairchild revealed herself, as she stepped up behind Simon and Isabelle. Divine intervention. As she inquired if she could steal Simon for a few minutes, Isabelle looked back to Raphael, but the now-human gave a polite nod and excused himself from the conversation, not wishing to keep her longer than necessary.

“It was good to talk to you,” he said before they parted, his tone sincere. 

“You too.”

It was time to leave the festivities, he decided. However, he knew one of the happy grooms would have words with him if Raphael were to leave without saying anything. Particularly after Magnus had found out he’d been banished to Detroit, leaving without even a word of good-bye, the warlock would not take kindly to it.

So he waited for the grooms to finish their first dance together, watching from afar between nursing drinks at the bar. He was careful not to overdo it; his tolerance for alcohol was practically nonexistent these days. He had already mingled somewhat with others besides Isabelle and Simon, but he was more than ready to leave, the party scene not quite for him.

He was finishing his glass when a voice said from behind him, “How many have you had, exactly?”

Raphael turned, surprised, as Magnus’ face stared back at him, one eyebrow raised. Alec was not close by; in fact, when Raphael glanced around, he was almost out of sight, but his eyes caught a glimpse of him across the room, speaking with some of the wedding guests. Raphael hadn’t even realized their first dance was finished.

“Magnus.” Raphael smiled. He did that a lot now that he was human again, in part because to those who knew him as a vampire, it was very unsettling, but mostly, it was because he was truly happy now. “Congratulations. The ceremony was beautiful.” 

“Thank you, sweet boy, but you haven’t answered the question.” As Raphael’s brow furrowed, taken aback by the pressing, Magnus pointed to the glass in his hand. “How many is that?”

Raphael glanced down to the glass. “Two? What of it?”

“That’s enough.” Magnus stepped forward and plucked the glass from Raphael’s hands, placing it on the bar next to him, and with his other hand, he took Raphael’s arm, pulling him away from the bar.

“It’s not as if I am drunk, Bane. And would you let go of my arm, please?”

Magnus stopped and looked at him, his expression unreadable. It proved all the more confusing to Raphael, who didn’t understand this behavior from Magnus. In truth, he rarely understood Magnus’ behavior—the warlock was something else entirely—but this was exceptionally confusing. “If you’ll come with me.” 

“I—of course?” Raphael blinked. At his acquiescence, Magnus nodded and let go of his arm, instead tilting his head to the right as if to say ‘follow me, then’. Raphael did, still unsure what exactly was going on.

Magnus led him away from the reception, through the door outside. 

“What is this about?” Raphael demanded when they were alone.

“I must speak with you. I thought perhaps it could wait, but I’ve decided it can’t.”

 _Oh, God._ “What’s gone wrong now?” He was afraid to even imagine the possibilities.

“Nothing, nothing like that, sweet boy.” Magnus tapped his chin. “Relax. There’s nothing wrong, nothing to fight, nothing to worry about.”

Well, that was refreshing. Raphael settled somewhat. “Then what is it?”

“I’ve been doing some thinking, and Alexander and I have spoken about it. Seeing you there drinking, it’s made me realize perhaps we ought to have the conversation sooner rather than later. And as there’s no politically correct way to say it, I’ll just do so. Raphael, you’re human now.”

“I’m aware,” he said dryly, “though I’m not quite sure how this constitutes as news.”

“What I mean is your life has changed dramatically. No longer do you belong at the Hotel Dumort, no longer does the life style and the terms of being a vampire apply to you because you no longer are one.”

“What exactly is your point?”

“In existence, you are over eighty years old, but in physical appearance you are fifteen. The mundane world will not see you as anything but. Raphael, you have always been a son to me, I practically raised you once before. It is clear to me that I will have to do so again.”

His jaw slackened. Of all things he expected Magnus to bring up, this was not one of them. “Excuse me?”

“In mundane terms, you are a minor. You need a guardian— _guardians_. Myself and Alexander, to be exact, while you find your place in the mundane world. This is your chance to begin again, Raphael. Everything you wanted to do prior to being turned into a vampire, this is now your chance, but you cannot do so alone. If you showed up in the mundane world with no documentation, seemingly out of nowhere, you won’t get far. I’m prepared to do the paperwork and make your re-entry into the mundane world smooth, but you are fifteen years old, you cannot do it alone.”

“I am not fifteen years old.”

“As I said, in appearance you are, as well as in mundane terms. Your paperwork would reflect that, and as such, you need a home, you need guardians, and you need to at least finish high school for another thing, while we’re at it.”

“Now hold on. Have you _completely_ lost it?” Raphael demanded. “Magnus, I have lived as an adult for _decades_. My change to human has not changed that. I assure you, I’m completely self-sufficient, and the _last_ thing I need is—”

“Stability,” Magnus interrupted. “A childhood. A _life_. You’re not on your own, and I won’t see you thrown to the wolves—so to speak—of the mundane world, left to fend for yourself. Alexander and I have already discussed it, and this is something we can give you. Something we _want_ to give you. I can’t let you go off into the mundane world not fully prepared.”

“I am not a child!”

“But you _are_.” Magnus grasped Raphael’s arms, looking him straight in the eyes. “Teenager is perhaps the better term, but the fact remains the same. Heavenly Fire did not just cure you of your vampirism; it restored your body to its fifteen-year-old self, to who you were before you were turned. I understand this isn’t something you want to accept, but I see it clear as day: you are a teenager, Raphael, and as such, I say that it is time for you to come home.”

Raphael wrenched himself from the warlock’s grasp. “ _No_. That is ridiculous, I don’t need—I’m perfectly fine the way that I am. I’ve applied to a seminary; I’m going to live my life how _I_ choose, I don’t need looking after or—or babysat!”

“You are like a ghost to the mundane world. They don’t remember your existence, so at the very least you’ll need documentation when you re-enter it to make a life there. I’m happy to prepare the paperwork for you but I’m not going to forge it based on the age you feel you are. You _are_ fifteen, whether you would like to accept that or not.”

“I’m _ninety-five_ ,” he said through gritted teeth, truly growing tired of this argument, which seemed to be going in circles with no end in sight.

“In existence. Not in any of the ways that truly matter.” Magnus’ face gentled. “Don’t you see the benefits in this? Raphael, you can go back to school, you can pick up your life right where it ended. It’s a fresh start, yes, but you cannot skip ahead a few chapters and begin in the middle. That’s not how it works.”

Raphael’s eyes narrowed. “And how would you know how it works? This is an absolutely unique situation, one I’m certain you’ve never dealt with before. Therefore, perhaps you should consider the fact that you don’t actually know best here.” 

“Come now, don’t get upset. Please. I understand you don’t like to hear this. You’ve lived as an adult for decades, I understand this, but you are not an adult now, no matter how much you want to be one. Raphael.” Magnus reached out again, this time to grip Raphael’s shoulder and squeeze. “You said it yourself, becoming human again was a gift, and you were right. This is a gift. You have opportunities now you hadn’t before, and I’m so pleased for you. But I made a promise to your mother decades ago that I would not allow harm to come to her son, that I would keep him safe, and that I would protect him. You are in a more vulnerable position now than ever, with the way you are now, even though, yes, I know you are neither helpless nor defenseless. You cannot, however, deny the facts that this is your life now. You are a human teenager now, and you need a place to grow up—to actually grow up. You need to come home, Raphael.”

 _Home?_ Sure, he had thought of Magnus’ loft as that once, decades ago when the warlock had first taken him in. He had come to view Magnus as something akin to a father, and he knew Magnus thought of him like a son—he’d vocalized that before now. But that was all a long time ago. Raphael was no longer that teenaged vampire Magnus took in, and he certainly did not consider himself a teenage human, either. He was ninety-five years old. He had walked this Earth for decades longer than his physical appearance would make it seem, and that meant that at least mentally, he was an adult. He was. 

This proposition of Magnus’ was stupid. Besides. Raphael could easily pass for an adult—for twenty years old, at least. He did not look fifteen.

At least not to his eyes. Especially with the manner of which he dressed and in the way he carried himself.

This entire thing was absurd. He would not agree to it.

Raphael squared his shoulders, feeling taller as he came to the right, just decision. “I should not like to insult the groom on his wedding day,” he said stiffly. “Therefore, I shall leave before I say something I’ll regret.”

Magnus’ eyes rolled to the ceiling. “Just once I had hoped that you might make this easy on me, but of course, sons will be sons. You have nowhere to go, Raphael. Drop your pride and your arrogance and accept the facts. Your life has changed, and you have to change with it.”

“I’m not changing back to a child.”

“You already have.”

“I haven’t!” he shouted, perhaps a bit too loudly. Thankfully, the music where the reception took place mostly drowned out the sound from anyone overhearing, but Magnus’ expression was one of clear ‘I told you so’. If anything, Raphael’s defensive shout only proved Magnus’ point.

This was ridiculous.

“I haven’t,” he repeated quieter, adjusting his suit to sit properly on his torso again. 

“You have,” Magnus insisted again, a bit more gently. “I know you’d rather it wasn’t this way, but this is the way it is. Embrace it. After all, how many of us get the chance to have a fresh start, the ability to start life anew? It is a gift. Now accept it.”

He didn’t want to. Accept he was a teenager again? Accept that he had to live under someone else’s roof, accept the loss of control of his life? 

Accept the vulnerability?

He didn’t want to—and even if he did, he wouldn’t know how.

“Accept it,” Magnus repeated, his tone gentle. “Goodness knows it’ll make your life a whole lot easier than denying it. Now, no more drinks tonight, understood? Two was more than enough for someone who shouldn’t have technically been drinking in the first place.”

“I have been drinking for decades!”

“Yes, yes, but now you’re not. Fifteen, remember? It’s something to adjust to, but we’ll manage.”

“Will we now?” Raphael demanded.

“Yes. I have certainty. Now, you go back inside there and enjoy yourself. Then you’re coming home with us.”

“Absolutely not. Aside from the obvious fact that I am an adult, no matter what you believe, don’t you have a marriage to consummate? I am not going home to that.”

Magnus smiled. “Ah, you just called it home. I see we’re in agreement then, even though you’re acting otherwise. All right, Raphael, fine. You can stay the night at the Dumort one last time and there you’ll pack your things; you’re moving out tomorrow.”

The warlock was delusional! 

“And what of your honeymoon?”

“Hm.” Magnus shifted his weight on his back heel, leaning back with a finger to his chin, thinking it through. “I suppose you have a point. Alexander and I do have a fantastic honeymoon planned. Fine, after then. A week you’ll have left to spend at the Dumort, then when we return home, you’re moving back in. Don’t get anxious; Alexander knows and he’s agreed it’s for the best. We can’t very well let my fifteen-year-old roam the world alone, after all—at least not in good conscience.”

“ _Ninety_ -five,” he corrected, “year old. Ninety-five.”

Magnus waved a hand. “Same thing. It’s settled then. In a week, you’ll be back home where you belong, we’ll enroll you in school, and you’ll get your fresh start properly. Splendid!” 

Raphael didn’t remember agreeing to any of it, but he had a suspicion that was rather the point. He didn’t have the option to argue, either, at the least for the moment being, as the newly married Magnus Lightwood-Bane returned back to his wedding reception, leaving Raphael alone.

This ‘fresh start’ was starting to seem like it might be more trouble than it was worth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment if you liked this bit! I’m excited to write and post more!


	2. Next Week

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing I want to draw attention to before we begin this chapter: I am blending some of elements from the show and the books together. Specifically the short story _Saving Raphael Santiago_. With it being Raphael's vampire origin story, I wanted to include it as I think it's important, and while the show mentioned what happened in vague details as pertaining to how Magnus and Raphael knew each other, I wanted to honor the origin story here in this fic.

A week had passed since Magnus and Alec’s wedding, since Magnus had given him his ultimatum. 

That conversation with Magnus hung over his head the entire week—he’d tried his best to dismiss it, but Magnus’ words kept reverberating in his eardrums every chance they got: _You are fifteen, whether you would like to accept that or not_.

 _What do you know?_ Raphael wished he had retorted in that moment. As the conversation kept replaying in his head, he found himself coming up with much better responses than the ones he actually gave. _The situation is entirely unique. I have looked fifteen years old for eight decades—that meant nothing before and it means nothing now._

His humanity was a gift he had only spent eighty years dreaming of. What would he have done if he had never been turned? Where would he be? Who would he be?

What would be different?

They were the thoughts that kept him company for eighty years; in his mind, he had painted pictures worthy of Michelangelo of what his life might have turned out like if he and his older friends had not went after that vampire who had been stealing children from their neighborhood on that hot, summer night all those years ago.

Louis Karnstein.

A Hungarian vampire who had preyed on children in particular, finding their blood to be the purest and sweetest, who had been two things to Raphael: his sire and his first kill. 

Eighty years later, he still remembered that night like it had happened yesterday. Even with the blood frenzy of a fledgling vampire, he had the wherewithal to think and to plan the demise of the one he had only come into contact with in the first place because he had come to slay him. 

The job had been done, but not without its consequences. Unforeseen one that Raphael could have never predicted. Death, yes, that was the risk he and his friends had known of, though every one of them had taken it anyway, thinking themselves each invincible as only teenagers do. What was not expected was Louis Karnstein’s decision to turn Raphael, with the intention of him helping him with his friends. Of course that was not the case, but Louis Karnstein had not expected that to happen. 

The Hungarian vampire had been dead by morning, when the sun turned him to ash at Raphael’s hand. Raphael would have suffered the same fate at his own doing, had Magnus Bane not found him.

The Bane of his existence. For eighty years, they crossed paths, sometimes longer than others, but Raphael could never forget what Magnus had done for him. His life was not a life worth saving but Magnus had saved it anyway, and in doing so, he had given Raphael a gift: the ability to spend a little more time with his family, time enough that he could actually muster a goodbye to them before he withdrew from their lives. Much as Raphael may insult him, or sass him as Magnus liked to put it, Raphael did hold an intense respect for the warlock, and he had over the years come view him as something of a father figure. For when he said goodbye to his family several months after Magnus returned him to his mother’s doorstep, having to resign himself to watching them from afar, watching them grow old without him a part of it, Magnus was there for him as support. More than that, Magnus was there for him as someone Raphael could come to count on. He became something of a mentor to Raphael, and then, he became something of a father—for when Magnus took a downworlder under his wing, they became his children, his family. 

And Raphael, at his very heart of hearts, had always craved family.

Though he would not ever admit it.

But Magnus knew, because Magnus held felt similarly. An unlikely pair, perhaps, for father and son, but their connection was undeniable (although Raphael had done his best to deny it for many years, for the sake of his pride—he couldn’t let his reputation of being cold and aloof be spoiled by the knowledge that there were individuals out there that he actually _cared_ about).

He had come to terms with his life (or _unlife_ , as it were) as a vampire some decades ago. Fifty? Sixty? He couldn’t be entirely sure of the time, but it was a while past. It didn’t mean that he didn’t have his regrets, or that he didn’t view himself as a damned soul still, because he did. 

But he at least didn’t want to throw himself into the sun every morning. He realized that if this was to be his existence, he had to do something with it; he had to find his purpose and live for that. He found family with the New York clan; he rose in ranks and became Camille’s second-in-command, and then when she went rogue, he became clan leader in her place. Raphael always kept moving forward, finding the next thing to live for, all while outwardly suppressing the childish desire to go back to that day where everything changed and do it differently. 

But in the privacy of his own mind, he had always wondered— _dreamed_ —what it might have been like had things been different. 

Now, with the help of Heavenly Fire, which was a solution right out of his very dreams, he had the gift of being able to explore that. That was why he had applied to the seminary; as a child, he’d been raised a good Catholic, and he had dreamed of becoming a priest when he grew up. He could do that now. He could do so much.

But in order to do so, he had to pick up right where he left off? That didn’t seem right. All right, he conceded, perhaps at an objective logical perspective, he could see how that might seem correct—but he’d lived _ninety-five years_ thus far. An entire human lifespan. Shouldn’t he have the right to choose where his new life began?

Magnus’ words from last week sounded in his head again: _It’s a fresh start, yes, but you cannot skip ahead a few chapters and begin in the middle. That’s not how it works._

Why shouldn’t it?

What did Magnus know anyway? The warlock seemed to think he knew everything. It was Raphael’s life to do with what he chose, and that there was the end of it. Magnus could advise all he wanted—even though he was wrong— but regardless of that, Raphael was the only one who could make decisions for his own life.

Magnus would just have to come to terms with that.

The trouble was convincing him of that, because despite it all, Raphael did need the warlock’s help. There was one thing Magnus had been correct about: Raphael had no documentation to his name, which meant he could not live in the mundane world. He also could not live in the shadow world unless he chose to live in the way Magnus suggested, as his houseguest. He could not continue living in the Hotel Dumort. Though that had been his home for eighty years, he was not exactly welcome any longer, given that he was no longer one of them. Because of who he had been to them, the vampires of the Hotel Dumort had granted him the time to find new living arrangements, but that time had run out. Raphael knew it would not last forever.

Besides, in the time he had been in Detroit, he had been living on the streets and volunteering at the soup kitchen as a part of his penance. He could do so again. After all, his atonement was nowhere near finished. With Magnus’ help, though, he could live at the seminary as he studied and began his new, improved chapter in life. 

The problem was, he just needed Magnus’ help, and Magnus didn’t seem convinced that Raphael was ready for the seminary. 

_It’s a fresh start, yes, but you cannot skip ahead a few chapters and begin in the middle. That’s not how it works._

So what if his life had ended at fifteen? He could easily pass for—hm, twenty, or something close, enough of an age that applying to the seminary was perfectly reasonable. Why not?

He just had to convince Magnus. A week passed since Magnus and Alec’s wedding, since Magnus had given him his ultimatum, and in that week Raphael had done a lot of thinking—enough to come to a decision.

Saturday afternoon, he was walking the park he used to walk with Rosa when the cell phone in his pocket began to ring. It was rare he ever received phone calls or even text messages on it; Raphael was not exactly a very sociable person, and he didn’t exactly have ‘friends’. The sudden sound of the ringtone took him by surprise. Who in the world would be contacting him?

Likely a wrong number. Raphael did not even bother pulling the phone from his pocket; he just let it ring until it stopped. Other people in the park were glaring his direction for his ringing phone disturbing their peaceful afternoon, but he ignored them as he had ignored his phone.

Then it began to ring again. A second call.

Brows furrowing, Raphael stopped walking and took his phone out. There on the screen, the name _Bane_ showed. 

Ah. So not a wrong number after all.

He supposed it was only polite to answer. “What is it?”

Magnus’ voice was tight. “Where are you?” 

He had to admit, he was surprised by both the question and Magnus’ tone. What had gotten into him? Didn’t he just get back from his honeymoon? What could have possibly put him in this bad of a mood so soon? “Is everything all right?”

“ _Is everything_ —?” Raphael heard the warlock exhale sharply. “I’ll be honest, I cannot tell if you are serious or if you’re putting me on, but I’ll humor it nonetheless and ask again: Where are you? Because I’ve been to the Dumort and they said you moved out a week ago to they don’t know where, and since I know it wasn’t to the loft, I have to admit that I’m confused, considering that we agreed what your next step would be.”

Ah. So this was about that. “I am not certain if it’s your old age affecting your memory or if you were too caught up in the blissful moment after marrying the love of your life to get the details straight, but as I seem to recall, I did not agree in the slightest to what you seem to have decided is ‘best’ for me.”

There was a brief moment of silence on the other end of the phone. Then a measured, “Raphael,” in the tone of a man truly exasperated. 

A pang of guilt struck his heart hearing it, though he was unsure why. He thought his point to be very reasonable. “Yes?”

“I am not having this conversation again.”

The first reasonable thing he had heard from Magnus since this entire conversation began a week ago. “Great. Neither am I. It’s settled then.”

“It is,” Magnus agreed, “you’re coming home, today, and you’re not going to avoid it any longer.”

Now it was Raphael’s turn to feel exasperated. He was still on this? Even a week later? “Magnus, allow me to spell it out for you—”

“—I’m going to stop you there before you say something more to make me want to shake you. I’m upset with you, Raphael; I’m angry, and I’m even disappointed.” The words were like slaps to the face; stupidly, they stole Raphael’s breath and rendered him speechless for the moment. “And I don’t think you even understand why. You are _mundane_ now. You don’t have your vampire abilities to protect you if you take stupid risks, like living on the streets for a week at _fifteen years old_. Now, I taught you to fight myself, so yes, before you say it, I _do_ know you’re not defenseless, but that’s not the point. You are a teenager. That is fact, that is not something we can debate despite your insistence to because there is no changing it. Therefore, the absolute last thing you should be doing is living on the streets like no one loves or cares about you. I love and care about you, and I have had enough of this. Now, you have two choices. Either you come to the loft willingly with your bags and we get you settled in, or I come to get you. Decide.”

There was no one greater on the planet that Raphael respected than Magnus Bane. To know that his attempt at ‘adulting’, at taking charge of his own life and making an independent decision about it, had caused Magnus this much upset was gut-wrenching. Truly, at the end of the day, Raphael wanted nothing more than Magnus’ good favor. He looked up to the warlock, and the last thing he wanted was to cause him upset or to disappoint him.

He may not truly understand why Magnus was upset, and he may disagree with Magnus’ idea that Raphael was fifteen again, but in this moment, none of that mattered. His actions—just or not—had hurt Magnus, and that was enough for Raphael to swallow hard as guilt pooled his stomach.

Perhaps… it wasn’t the worst thing to concede to ‘coming home’. At least for the time being. Clearly, Magnus needed convincing of Raphael’s point that he was not a child, and that would probably take time. He couldn’t worry or upset the warlock any further by trying to convince him from afar, while he lived on the streets, which Magnus was clearly disapproving of. So perhaps coming home was the best of both worlds, appeasing both sides for now.

It was a temporary solution, but it was for the best. It was entirely likely he could convince Magnus of the conclusion he’d come to in this past week after moving back in to the loft without compromising his pride or conceding the argument that he was not fifteen.

Very well. That would be what he would do.

“I’m coming,” he spoke into the phone after a few beats of silence between them while Raphael came to a conclusion. “I’ll be there within the hour.”

“Thank you.” Magnus’ tone was clipped. Hard. Raphael bit his lip as he heard it. He wanted to offer an apology and an explanation, finding himself a little desperate for Magnus to understand that he hadn’t thought his actions would hurt him or cause him upset, but Magnus spoke again before he had the chance to muster anything up, “I will see you then, Raphael.”

And then the line went dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a turn I wasn't expecting, but I'm not mad about it. I've got a little bit of chapter three written already; I'm hoping it might be ready by next week.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read, given kudos, and commented on this fic! It is so exciting to be sharing this with you all and knowing that you're enjoying it, and that excitement is what inspires me to keep going 😊🤗


	3. Settling In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay! With everything going on in the world, all of my writing energy got zapped out of me. Honestly, I'm not happy with this chapter, but I've decided to post it anyway in order to get _something_ up. I appreciate every person who had read, followed, commented, and given kudos to this fic—I hope you can find something to enjoy in this chapter amidst the crap, and I promise my next one to be better than this. Thank you all. ❤️

Raphael felt incredibly guilty. He stood in front of the Magnus’ door, unable yet to knock and announce his presence, too ashamed of himself to want to face the one who he knew was put out with him.

There were times he deliberately tried to make Magnus put out with him, but it was never to a degree like this. In those times, it was never anything serious; mostly it was with sarcastic remarks and sassy comebacks, the kinds of things Magnus actually enjoyed to engage in. Banter. Friendly, despite how it might sound to outsiders, though there was always an underlying line of respect that neither of them ever crossed. 

They both enjoyed it, truly. It was a part of their dynamic, one neither of them would ever want to change. But this? Having Magnus actually put out with him? For a probably legitimate reason, even if Raphael felt it slightly unreasonable and unnecessary?

He hated this feeling, the one where he let Magnus down. He’d done so a fair amount of times in the past, but this time, for whatever reason, hit harder than usual. He couldn’t put a finger on why.

How stupid was it he was afraid to knock on the door? Raphael had faced worse things in his existence than a disappointed parental figure. He had done worse things than this in his existence! And yet, he almost stood frozen in front of this particular door.

What was wrong with him?

He didn’t get the chance to reflect on that—the door to Magnus’ apartment suddenly opened, revealing not Magnus, but his newly-wedded husband, Alec. It was by no means the first time Raphael had come face-to-face to Alec, but they didn’t exactly have a friendship. In fact, the last time they’d really interacted one-on-one had been when Alec had punched his face in, if Raphael recalled correctly. Other interactions they’d had had been strictly business, simply to do with the downworlder cabinet meetings and nothing else, really.

However, despite their lack of any personal relationship (the way Raphael mostly preferred to keep people), Raphael respected him for a multitude of reasons, the first of which being that he mattered so much to Magnus and that earned him respect by default. Aside from that, Alec had earned his respect with how he’d handled his position as the Head of the New York Institute.

“By the angel, will you just come in?” Alec asked him with exasperation, stepping back enough to wave Raphael in. “I can’t take it anymore. He’s been beside himself for the past fifteen minutes knowing you’re out there and not coming in, but he refused to come get you himself.”

“Raphael, there you are.” Standing inside the loft, Magnus walked closer. His expression was unreadable. For some odd reason, Raphael found himself dreading just what Magnus might say to him. On the phone, he’d been angry. Was he still? Or had he calmed? “Your bags.” Magnus snapped his fingers, the bags on the floor outside of Magnus’ door levitating into the air and flying inside. Raphael had no choice but to step inside to follow his belongings. They disappeared down the hall into what Raphael knew was the spare room he’d stayed in when he’d lived here decades ago. Apparently he was getting his same room back.

Alec closed the front door after Raphael entered. “Great. Now maybe you two can get past this standstill you seem to be in. I’ll be out on the balcony, come get me when you’ve sorted it out.”

With that, it was just Raphael and Magnus.

Magnus cleared his throat. “My very handsome, very intelligent husband has a good point. We should probably talk.” He took a seat in the nearby armchair, gesturing Raphael to the other. “Sit, please.”

Raphael did so. It occurred to him that any other time, in a situation like this, Magnus would be offering him a drink while nursing one of his own—however, today, his hands were empty. It was somewhat odd to see the warlock without a glass. He was curious what had brought on the new sobriety, but then, perhaps Magnus had been this way for a while? They’d been out of touch for some time these past few months—between Raphael’s banishment from the city and his imprisonment, he was sure that a lot had happened with Magnus that he didn’t know the half of.

“I’m glad to have you home,” Magnus said with that outright affection that always made Raphael’s throat clench tightly, “Alexander too. I understand you two haven’t had…” Magnus waved a hand in the air as he tried to find the best way to word it, “well, let’s just put it as the best personal relationship, but he’s as glad as I am.”

Somehow, Raphael had a hard time picturing it, but he didn’t know Alec well enough to know if Magnus’ words were true or not. He supposed he’d find out eventually what Alec’s true opinion of him was—especially given that Magnus was insisting he moved back in, now. They’d surely be spending a lot of quality time together.

Ugh. He shuddered at the thought. Quality time? With people? Spare him.

“I feel a lot better knowing you’re here and not out there, Raphael.” Magnus’ eyes met Raphael’s. “I meant what I said before. You’re not going to be out there living on the streets like no one loves or cares about you— _I_ do. _We_ do. This is your home; your pride doesn’t get to refuse it.”

“My pride has nothing to do with it,” he said somewhat stiffly.

“Doesn’t it?” Magnus countered. Raphael hated that tone—the one that suggested he knew more than Raphael did. And yes, perhaps if Raphael thought about it, perhaps Magnus had a point, but he would not concede to that just yet.

He shook his head. “It wasn’t about pride. It was about practicality. I no longer belong at the Hotel Dumort, and I had nowhere to go otherwise.”

“You _did_. You do. This has been your home since the beginning, and in eighty years, that fact has never changed.”

Raphael glanced away. To Magnus, perhaps that was true, but Raphael hadn’t felt the same. Eighty years ago, when he’d first been turned, it had made sense. He was just a boy who had lost the only home he’d ever known, the only family he’d had, the ones he’d loved fully and wholeheartedly. The ones he’d actually given his life to protect when he and the other boys from the neighborhood had discovered that there was a monster lurking in the night, threatening their home and their families. Their community’s children. It had been Raphael’s idea; he’d been the ringleader, and it had cost him not only his life but the lives of his friends and the loss of his soul in the process. When Magnus took him in, it’d been a gift; a lifeline. He had nothing else to cling to but Magnus at the time, and cling he did. Despite all his maturity, he had still only been a boy—one who craved to be loved, though he’d never admit it. Magnus had taken him in and not only taught him how to live with himself, but he’d cared for him, he’d loved him, in a way only a parent could, and Raphael had desperately wanted that. He’d needed it. It had been easy then to go to the warlock’s home, to settle into the guest room, and to find he cared for the warlock as much as he did him.

Now, it was much harder. There had been an innocence to Raphael then that now was long gone. Eighty years ago, he’d never been away from home, he’d never known anything other than his mother’s house and what it was like to be a part of a family who loved you. Now, he was different. He’d been independent for quite some time. It was harder to settle in to this idea that he was to not only move back home, but to accept he was fifteen again.

He didn’t necessarily _feel_ fifteen.

He just felt… human. That was all. He just reveled in the fact he was human again; any feelings that came with it, he assumed were there because he was human. Not because he was “fifteen”.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” Raphael pointed out quietly.

“Yes, thankfully.” Magnus nodded. “Like I said before, I’m glad to have you home, Raphael. It’s where you belong. Now, maybe you feel fifteen, maybe you don’t, but you’re here now because it’s where you belong regardless and I don’t see why we have to argue about it, so let’s not, for once. We can at least agree on this: you _look_ fifteen. Your paperwork which I’ve conjured up for you reflects that. Like it or not, you’re going to have to act fifteen and go through the motions. That means being here. That means high school. I’ve already taken the liberty in enrolling you; you’ll start Monday.”

“Just like that.”

“Just like that,” Magnus confirmed. “I’m not asking you to like it, but you’re going to have to accept it. There’s nothing we can do about it otherwise.”

He bristled at that. When he’d first entered the loft, he’d only felt guilt and shame, but now, the more he spoke to Magnus, his previous anger at this entire ridiculous situation seeped back into him. Raphael narrowed his eyes in Magnus’ direction, suspicious and somewhat irritated by Magnus’ righteous matter-of-fact attitude. “Do you know that for certain?”

“What are you suggesting?” Magnus asked calmly.

“Don’t play stupid.” He just about resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Are you certain there’s no spell or anything else to age me to an appropriate age? Or are you simply refusing to do so because you’d _prefer_ me to be fifteen?”

Magnus leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful look on his face, not rising to the challenge in Raphael’s voice. “Now, enlighten me. Why would I prefer you to be fifteen?”

“You tell me,” he said with a deliberate calm. “Enlighten _me_. The only thing I can think of is that you found the nearest person down on his luck to drag into this ridiculous game of house you’ve designed after marrying your shadowhunter boyfriend.”

Magnus uncrossed his legs, leaning forward in his seat now, a finger pointed in Raphael’s direction. “Do _not_ suggest to me that the only reason I care about you is because I want to ‘play house’, Raphael.”

“Then _why do you?”_

Belatedly, he realized that he’d voiced that question aloud. He hadn’t meant to; he’d only meant to think it, but there it was, hanging in the space between them, in the open. The million-dollar question if there ever was one.

_Why do you even bother to care about someone like me, someone far more trouble than he’s worth?_

Magnus didn’t hesitate. Raphael could see his face soften, and he glanced away from it, but Magnus’ answer was immediate. Ready. “Because I do. Eighty years ago, I took you under my wing, and you became mine. My son. I know the two of us have had our share of _conditional_ love in our pasts, but that’s not how I feel about _my_ children. I care about you because I do, Raphael, and that’s it. That’s all there is to it. You can make me into your enemy if you want; go right ahead. You can blame me for the fact you look fifteen and it can’t be changed, that’s fine. I don’t care if you hate me. As long as you’re here, at home and safe and taken care of,” Magnus gave a shrug, “you can hate me all you want.”

Raphael swallowed. “I don’t hate you,” he muttered. He never had and likely never could, despite how often he acted like it. “I hate _this._ This idea that I’m… I don’t feel that way. I think it’s ridiculous. I’m _ninety-five_.”

“Yes, I know. You’ve told me. Repeatedly.”

“Yet you still refuse to listen.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” Magnus told him, not unsympathetically. “I know you want it to, but it doesn’t. So just make the most of it. Think of it this way: in a few short years, you’ll be able to do everything you want to do now. What’s another three years to a ninety-five-year-old, hm?”

Though he was loath to admit it, he supposed Magnus had a fair point. Three years wasn’t the worst amount of time to suffer. In the grand scheme of things, it was really a fairly short amount of time.

“There you go. I can see on your face that you’ve come to at least one of your senses.”

Raphael scowled at that.

“Ah. There’s the Raphael I know. All right, enough of this.” Magnus stood from his chair, stretching his arms out as if he’d been sitting so long due to their lengthy conversation, he’d gone stiff. Raphael rolled his eyes. The dramatics, they never ceased with Magnus.

The warlock stepped out of the room, heading towards the balcony where Alec was, and a few minutes later they both came in, coming over to where Raphael still sat.

“Raphael and I have come to a truce,” Magnus cheerfully explained to his husband, who took a seat in the armchair Magnus had vacated. Magnus didn’t seem to mind; he simply perched himself on the arm, comfortable as you please.

“I wouldn’t call it that.”

Magnus waved a hand at him. “Hush, hush. The point is we’ve reached an understanding, and I’m fairly sure neither of us want to pull our hair out about it, so it’s at least amicable.”

“Good,” Alec said, looking between his husband and Raphael. “That’s good. I know you’re probably having a hard time, Raphael, and I can’t pretend to know how you feel, but I agree with Magnus. The best thing is to have you here.”

Raphael had heard Magnus tell him that twice now, but to hear it from Alec’s mouth directly was something of a surprise. Magnus, sure, he could understand hearing it from Magnus. But Alec? He sounded as if he truly meant it.

Raphael wasn’t sure to do with that. It was somewhat disconcerting to think that Alec might care about him, too.

“We both want you here,” Alec continued. “We wouldn’t have it any other way. Did Magnus tell you about school?” At Raphael’s slight nod, Alec went on, “I don’t know much about the mundane world, but that’s where you fit in now, so it’s a learning curve for me too. We’re starting you Monday. Apparently it’s the same school Simon and—what?”

Magnus’ eyes had widened and he’d quickly reached for his husband’s arm to cut him off, probably with the intention to be subtle, but it didn’t escape Raphael’s notice, nor did Alec’s sentence.

“The _same_ school the daylighter attended?” Raphael demanded, his voice ice. “No. Absolutely _not_. I will not be attending the alma mater of Simon Lewis.”

Though he and Simon were on friendly terms now, despite their rocky history, that was too much for his pride to take. Raphael absolutely _refused_.

“Raphael—”

“Is there no other school in all of Brooklyn?” he interrupted, cutting off Magnus’ attempt to soothe him.

“It’s the closest, and it’s really quite a good school—”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“What’s the big deal?” Alec asked, brows furrowed.

Raphael didn’t deign to answer that. “You want to send me to school to get a diploma in my name? Fine. So be it. But choose another.”

Alec looked to Magnus. “I don’t understand what the problem is.”

Magnus shook his head. He’d probably explain it to him later, as Raphael certainly wasn’t going to explain it himself. He couldn’t believe Magnus of all people wanted to send him _there_ —to the same school as Simon had once attended. He had to have known how Raphael would feel!

“Is this some sort of sick joke?” Raphael demanded of the warlock. “It’s things like _this_ that make me think you’re enjoying this a little _too_ much, Bane.”

“It’s not like that. Simon went to the school, he can vouch for how good it was, and I wanted to send you to a good school. That’s all. He recommended it!”

“So you _asked_ him?” Raphael was beginning to seethe. “So he _knows_?”

“It’s just a school, Raphael,” Magnus attempted to say comfortingly, but it had the absolute opposite effect. "It's not like he goes there anymore."

Teeth grit together, Raphael stood from his seat. He was not going to have this conversation anymore. He had just about accepted the fact that he’d have to attend school in general, stupid as the idea was, but knowing it was that _particular_ school? No. It was not going to happen.

“I am not going.”

He turned on his heel, having said his piece and given the last word on the conversation, and then walked—dignifiedly, in no way stalking out like a child—from the living room to the hallway and then to the spare room that had been his once upon a time and was his now again. His bags confirmed as much, as they sat at the foot of the bed unpacked. Raphael stepped inside the room and shut the door pointedly. Not forcefully, not _slammed_ , just pointedly. To make his point.

He would attend that school over his dead body.


	4. The First Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovelies! I'm so sorry it's been a while; I hope I haven't lost your interest. Writing this fic was a huge comfort for me in April, but somewhere in the past few months between the COVID-19 pandemic, being an essential worker, and everything else 2020 has had to offer to our society, I lost my motivation. I'm slowly but surely trying to regain my momentum. Please bear with me.
> 
> I've decided to start a tumblr blog in case anyone wants to chat with me between chapters or see any of the behind-the-scene stuff (such as, _hint hint_ , sneak peeks and things of chapters still to come). If anyone is interested, you can find it at this [link!](https://arrow-laine.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Now, onto business! If anyone needs or wants a reminder of when we last left off: Raphael had just found out Magnus and Alec enrolled him in the same school that both Clary Fray and Simon Lewis once attended, at Simon's own recommendation. Raphael was simultaneously mortified and appalled, and he absolutely _refused_ to attend.
> 
> But come on, let's be real... since when does Raphael ever get what he wants?

Magnus attempted to speak with him again about “the school thing” (conveniently forgetting the fact there was _no_ “school thing” to be spoken about as far as Raphael was concerned) a short amount of time after Raphael’s very clear, very definite verdict regarding the matter, leaving Raphael with no choice but to make a swift and matter-of-fact exit of both the conversation and the room they both stood in, striding confidently to his bedroom where at least he could be left alone. Magnus had ignorantly tried to follow him and coax him back, but the warlock eventually came to the logical conclusion that the conversation was indeed over after Raphael ensured the point was crystal clear by firmly shutting the bedroom door in Magnus’ face.

After that, the apartment was blissfully silent. With an idea of keeping it that way, Raphael turned the lock on the door just in case Magnus decided to indulge in his particularly annoying character flaw of absolute idiocy and try again to revisit the conversation Raphael had already closed twice now.

Magnus was absolutely incorrigible. He had been for as long as Raphael knew him, and the former vampire knew as well that despite his clear position on the matter, Magnus would keep stubbornly trying. Very well then; if Magnus wanted to play the game of which of them was more obstinate, Raphael could easily compete.

 _Simon Lewis’ damn alma mater._ Of all the schools—of all the places!—for Magnus to choose, it had to be _that_ particular one? Of course Lewis no longer attended that school, having graduated at… some point, however many years it was before he and Clary Fairchild ever crossed paths with Raphael and the Brooklyn vampire clan, but that was irrelevant; the fact remained that the school Lewis attended and the one Magnus apparently already enrolled Raphael in was one and the same, and that was not something Raphael would stand for.

He just wouldn’t.

The notion of it was just too ridiculous. Humbling in a way Raphael most certainly did not prefer to be humbled, but more than that, it was… embarrassing.

Not that Raphael would admit as much aloud.

He was Lewis’ elder. More than that, he acted more as a sire to him than Camille ever did, despite their turbulent past and somewhat frequent inability to get along for more than ten minutes at a time—up until recently, that was, as their time in The Gard while Lewis was undercover had presented a positive change for their—dare he call it—friendship.

Now Raphael had to humble himself as practically a child younger than Lewis, attending the same school he once did? Like he was his… younger sibling or something ridiculous like that, rather than his vampiric mentor.

No. Absolutely _not_. Raphael could not stoop so low. His immense pride could not take the hit.

He did not care what Magnus said or did; Raphael would not change his mind on the matter, and he was not going to that school. Not over his twice-dead body.

* * *

Magnus stepped out onto the balcony, sighing out so deeply his lips mimicked a horse’s. He caught Alexander’s curious glance his way and pulled an expressive face at him. “He slammed the door in my face.”

“He what?” Alexander demanded with a not-very-well-hidden snort of laughter. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” With a snap of his fingers, the double doors leading out to the balcony softly shut, leaving the newlyweds in privacy. “He stormed out and seriously slammed the door in my face. And he says he’s _not_ a teenager…” Magnus shook his head. “I need a drink.”

Alexander’s face, though not unsympathetic, still held strong traces of amusement. “I can’t believe the always so composed and mature Raphael Santiago actually stomped off and slammed a door in your face.”

“Well, it happened.” Rather than deliver upon his earlier words and make himself a drink, Magnus instead stepped over to the ledge, leaning his weight on his forearms. “I have the ringing ears to prove it.”

A rustle sounded behind him as Alexander stood from his seat on one of the lounge chairs, and moments later, large hands found their way to Magnus’ shoulders, gently massaging where they rested. Magnus leaned into the touch like a cat, offering a smile over his shoulder to his darling husband. “Thank you. What really terrifies me is that this is only the beginning. I had been privately wondering to myself ‘which one could possibly be worse? Vampire Raphael or human teenager Raphael?’ and I’m starting to think that despite my initial thoughts, the true answer to my question is the latter. How that’s possible, I have no idea, but alas.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“Did I mention he slammed a door on me?” Magnus said incredulously. “He could have broken my nose! I could be walking around with a crooked nose right now because of him.”

“Was it really that close?” Alexander asked patiently.

“Of course not,” Magnus shrugged off easily, “but it’s the principle that matters.”

“Right. Well. Let’s just give him some time to cool off and come to terms with it. I’m sure it’ll be fine come Monday. What? What’s that face about?” Alexander demanded.

“I just think you’re underestimating how stubborn Raphael is.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Alexander repeated with a confidence Magnus almost felt sorry for. Knowing Raphael as Magnus did, he could not be as optimistic as his poor naïve husband.

“I do hope you’re right, Alexander.”

* * *

The mattress in his room was full-sized and plush, which—to his surprise as for the last eighty years, he’d only been able to find sleep in mattresses as firm and stiff as boards—he actually found to be comfortable. It was… nice. Actually nice.

The room was the same four walls Raphael remembered eighty years ago, albeit with one major change to the décor—no longer was the large floor-to-ceiling window covered up to prevent any natural light from entering the room as it had been when Raphael lived here as a fledgling. In fact, in the very early beginning, Magnus had somehow magicked the blinds to stay completely shut, just in case Raphael got any further bright ideas to throw himself in the sun, as he’d tried to do when they first met. That enchantment or magic hadn’t lasted forever; especially not after Raphael mentioned he felt he had been taken in as a prisoner, only treated worse, as he didn’t even have a window to look out of to see the night view.

The sensation of sunlight warming his skin still felt odd to him. Not in any bad way, of course, as he’d much rather prefer to feel the pleasant warmth versus the white-hot burning he’d endured in his vampiric state. Yet, it still took some getting used to to not flinch away from the sunlight, and to actually enjoy its warmth again. It was odd, too, to have the curtains in this room pulled wide open in the day time, the sunlight streaming in and offering its warmth even from behind the glass.

It calmed him. Soothed him, even. He lay on his side on the full-sized mattress with his eyes on the window and on the city view just outside, his mind wandering with fleeting thoughts of nothing in particular that came and went as the traffic did on the street below.

It was only as the sun began to set that he realized how much time he’d spent just lying there in the quiet peace, and not once did Magnus come to bother him.

That was surprising, too, but Raphael was grateful for it. He wasn’t certain he could stand looking Magnus in the face if the warlock kept on about this “school thing”, and God knew the warlock could be supremely annoying if he wished to be. Perhaps marriage had changed him; perhaps he finally learned to stop being annoying.

Yeah. That’d be the day.

But he supposed it was possible. Extremely unlikely, but possible.

And then there was Alec. Raphael wasn’t certain what to do with him; he obviously mattered a lot to Magnus, he had for a while, and as one Head to another, Raphael had come to respect his ability to lead his people and to foster unity between the Shadowhunters and the Downworlders.

Yet none of that applied anymore, as Raphael was no longer Head of anything, and they were no longer colleagues. Now, they were roommates.

No, not quite roommates. That term implied there was equality between them, but that wasn’t quite accurate. Raphael was more of a long-term guest in Alec’s home, one that wasn’t exactly there by choice but there nonetheless.

Magnus would say this was Raphael’s home, too, and while Raphael knew he meant it in the easily sincere fashion that was Magnus all over, he couldn’t _quite_ bring himself to call this his home. It was Magnus’ and now Alec’s, but Raphael didn’t feel comfortable calling it his, too, when it was already clearly theirs.

Yet, there was nowhere else for him than here. He almost wished Magnus had found some sort of boarding school for him since he refused to be convinced that Raphael didn’t need to attend any sort of school—at least that way, Raphael would not be a burden upon his home and his new husband.

If he voiced that to Magnus, however, the warlock would vehemently argue against him. _That’s not at all the case, Raphael. This is your home, and we both want you here. We wouldn’t have you here if we didn’t. Don’t be ridiculous, sweet boy._

Argh. The warlock was utterly impossible at the best of times and almost always entirely immoveable when it came to his opinions on Raphael’s well-being.

What a nuisance of a warlock Bane was.

A knock sounded on the closed bedroom door. Raphael rolled over enough to look over his shoulder, seeing the door handle jiggle but the lock held the door shut, preventing the intruder. He expected it to be Magnus, but another voice sounded from behind the closed door, “Raphael? It’s Alec.”

_Naturally. Who else? Only three people live here._

“Magnus made... soapy sucka?” Alec cleared his throat, and Raphael could imagine him on the other side of the door rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, knowing he completely butchered the correct name of the dish. “For dinner. He said it’s one of your favorites?”

 _Sopa seca._ A Mexican pasta dish literally translating to ‘dry soup’ and one of his childhood comfort foods, a dish he hadn’t tasted in over eighty years, but one he loved to this day. He must have mentioned it to Magnus at some point over the years, though he couldn’t remember how, when, or why it got brought up, as food and cuisine was not necessarily a topic a vampire felt necessary to discuss with anyone. Though, then again, in that aspect Raphael had not been a typical vampire, as he’d routinely cooked meals that he dropped off for Rosa in her retirement home.

“Come eat,” Alec continued, and the door knob jiggled again. Alec muttered something that was too muffled for Raphael to make out, his human hearing not nearly as advanced as his vampire hearing had been. Then, louder, Alec said, “You must be starving. I know I am, and it smells really good.”

Raphael rolled his eyes to the ceiling even while his stomach offered its hearty agreement to that statement with a loud growl. Yes, hungry he was, and though he had never tasted Magnus’ cooking, he knew the warlock could cook well. The idea of tasting sopa seca again was strongly appealing, truthfully, but sharing a meal with both Magnus and Alec on this first awkward night of living together was somewhat daunting. Especially considering the final notes of their last conversation together.

“Raphael?”

His stomach unhelpfully growled again. Raphael sighed. _All right, all right. You win._ _Stupid human needs…_ One of the few downsides to this new state of being.

He rolled off the bed and padded over to the door, turning the lock and pulling the door open. A fleeting flash of surprise crossed Alec’s features, almost too fast for Raphael to catch it, but not fast enough. Raising his brows at the Shadowhunter, Raphael inquired sardonically, “Would you prefer I declined? Or perhaps you hoped that I would?”

“What? No, not at all! I just… well, honestly, I expected it to take more convincing.” He smiled apologetically. “Magnus told me about your guys’ conversation earlier, and you haven’t left your room since.”

Raphael rolled his eyes and edged around the Shadowhunter, confidently striding towards the kitchen. “You two really are the perfect match. You’re both equal amounts of ridiculous.”

Magnus lit up with a smile when he caught sight of Raphael, which was annoying enough Raphael just barely managed to not roll his eyes again. “There you are! I trust you’ve unpacked and settled in?”

Not in the least. He hadn’t even touched his bags, what little there was of his stuff. “Mmn.”

“Excellent! Tonight we’re having sopa seca, I know how much you like that, Raphael—”

_Yes, but how?_

Magnus’ words from months ago came back to him, clear as a bell, I _can read you like an open book, in all capital letters…_

_He just knows you, you idiot._

“—and Alexander has never had it, it’s a first for him, so I hope I’ve done it justice. Now, Raphael, darling, will you set the table for me, please?”

In silence, Raphael went to gather plates and cutlery for three. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d set a table—it had to have been before he was turned—but doing so was easily reminiscent of simpler times of eating family dinners in his mother’s house, at their weathered round table, his younger siblings fighting over which dishes they wanted to set— _Rosa set forks last night, I want the forks!_ and _we don’t even need spoons, why do I have to set the spoons?_ —the trivial arguments between little children after a long day that somehow still to this day warmed his heart to think about. Simpler, easier times.

Now, the table was to be set for three: a warlock, Shadowhunter, and former-vampire-turned-mundane, a different sort of _Brady Bunch_ but apparently one in the same. Somehow, the thought of that made him angry. Were they really just to sit here and play house for the next few years? Like everything was so very normal, when normal was a word that could not apply to a single one of them, let alone the three of them as an ensemble? And Raphael just had to accept that?

_You’re fifteen whether you like it or not._

_Yes, well, I do not,_ he thought acidly, t _hat should rightfully count for something._

Yet it didn’t. That was the hardest of all of this, that he had no choice other than accepting the inevitable, because it _was_ inevitable. Why fight against it when the fight was pointless? But, at the same time, he couldn’t _not_ fight it. He was not one to just roll over and submit; he never had been. Especially when he found the inevitable to be utterly ridiculous.

A second chance at life, and one has to start again as a teenager. What a poetic load of garbage.

Suddenly, despite his empty stomach, Raphael didn’t feel hungry anymore. He set the cutlery onto the table with a _chink_ as the silver hit the wooden table, and turned to find Magnus’ face. “Actually, I think I’m going to turn in.”

“Turn in?” Magnus blinked. “It’s six o’clock!”

“I’m tired,” said Raphael shortly.

“Raphael—”

Alec cut across his husband with a quick, “That’s fine.”

Magnus’ eyes cut over to him, expression full of disbelief. “Alexander.”

Alec stepped over to table and loaded up a healthy serving onto one of the dishes Raphael had set, placing it into Raphael’s hands. “But take this. You need to eat.”

“It isn’t necessary.” He shoved the dish back at Alec, but the Shadowhunter refused to take it.

“Just take it to your room with you so you have something if you do get hungry.”

Somehow, Alec being kind to him and making arrangements to fit around his needs grated at him. He clenched his jaw. “I can locate the kitchen myself if I need it, thank you.”

“It’ll save you the trip. Goodnight.” And Alec just turned away, the conversation apparently finished, moving on to ask Magnus, “What would you like to drink?” as if everything was completely fine and normal.

Raphael admittedly was a bit off-put by his nonchalant attitude. Magnus at least seemed to want to say something—probably an insistence Raphael stay and eat with them, it wouldn’t kill him to share one meal—but he instead kept his mouth shut, following his husband’s lead.

Unsure of what to do with that, or any of it, Raphael took the dish with him back to his room, where once behind the closed door he did actually eat it in peace. It was actually good. Not exactly like what his mother would make, but close enough that despite his recent change in mood, it lifted his spirits and warmed his heart along with his stomach. And in the privacy of his bedroom behind its closed door, he could allow himself to feel the pleasant feelings without rancor.

He finished the entire meal alone in his room, his taste buds practically singing. If he remembered his manners by the time he saw Magnus again, he’d have to compliment him on his surprising ability to cook decently. Mm, or he wouldn’t. It depended on how gracious Raphael felt like being at the time and how unbearable Magnus’ ego would become afterwards. Perhaps it was for the best he kept his comments to himself.

The night sky fell completely, blanketing the scenery outside the window in darkness save for the artificial lights of street lamps, passing headlights, and distant lights that lay beyond them in the city that never sleeps. The night was comforting though. Familiar. And still Raphael did not leave his room—not to return the plate to a sink or dishwasher like a normal person, nor to find anyone to make conversation. Instead, he changed his clothes for bed, and settled onto the mattress where he could lay down comfortably. He kept the window curtains pulled open to see the view outside. He wanted to watch the sun rise in the morning when he woke.

It was a habit he was finding himself in more and more, watching the sun rise at dawn. He found that to be the most peaceful hour of the day.

The sunset was comforting, and the sunrise peaceful. He’d never truly appreciated either of them until now. There had been a time he’d feared the rising of the sun, but now, it was the most beautiful sight in the world. Raphael vowed there would never be a sunrise or sunset he didn’t take notice of or appreciate fully.

He owed the sun at least that. He owed his humanity at least that.

Raphael succumbed to a peaceful night’s sleep, having no idea what would await him the next day.

“Rise and shine!”

He jerked at the suddenly loud, cheery note of Magnus’ voice, too bold for Raphael’s liking. He blinked in the daylight streaming into the room, his eyes needing to adjust. He’d awoken as dawn came early this morning like he promised himself, but he’d fallen asleep shortly after the sun had fully risen in the sky. Perhaps that was old habits, but he found himself sleeping most heavily in the daylight. He didn’t even remember falling back asleep.

Magnus clapped his hands together, a boisterous noise that made Raphael groan. “We are starting a new day, Raphael Santiago, on a fresh foot, whether you like it or not.”

 _Whether you like it or not_ was a phrase Magnus seemed to be getting used to saying that Raphael seriously objected to. He groaned louder.

“I was thinking we could go out. We need to shop anyway and I know how much you like your clothes, you’ll need much more of them.”

Rubbing his eyes as they adjusted to being open, he demanded, “Why?”

So help him, if Magnus mentioned that ridiculous school idea one more time…

“You don’t have nearly enough casual clothes. I promise it won’t be horrible. We could get some other things while we’re at it, things for your room, things to have that are yours. Possessions. Things. Come on, Raphael. I promise it won’t be unbearable. We could even get cronuts while we’re out…?” Magnus dangled temptingly, and damn it, if that didn’t sound good on Raphael’s growling stomach… the bastard…

“All right,” he gave in unwillingly, glaring at the warlock who looked far too happy standing at the side of Raphael’s bed. “Fine. We’ll go. But cronuts before anything else. And coffee. Lots of coffee.”

Magnus held his hands up in a surrender gesture. “Okay, okay, I got it. Not a morning person, are you, sweet boy?”

He rolled his eyes. “I would be if you didn’t so rudely wake me as you did.”

“Right. My fault. Of course it is. Well, get dressed and come along. We’ve shopping to do!” Magnus clapped again. “Oh, this’ll be so exciting! I’ll let Alexander know we’ll be off before he leaves for the Institute.”

Raphael had the sinking feeling he’d just made a deal with a devil, and that the day’s events would be more torturous than expected. Hopefully the cronuts would make up for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not super happy with this chapter tbh, but despite it being a lot of filler, it felt important to have it in the story before we get moving on with plot and all, so I couldn't cut it out. I hope you enjoyed it anyway. 
> 
> Please know your comments, kudos, and subscriptions to this story have motivated me to keep going, even if I'm slow going. I hope I don't disappoint you with what's to come from me next, which can only get better from here. I thank you all from the bottom of my heart.


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